Godiva smiled, slow and dreamy. “I could never be annoyed with the Princess, or with Commander Mondrian. They are the people who introduced me to you.”
She gazed lovingly across the table at Brachis. Her mouth was wide and full-lipped, in a pink-cheeked oval face that was slightly too plump, and the wide-set blue eyes wore their usual trusting and contented expression.
An analysis of Godiva’s individual features would suggest no exceptional beauty. Her chin was a fraction too long, her nose slightly bobbed and asymmetrical, her forehead a shade too high. But the whole was somehow much greater than the sum of the parts. The totality of Godiva, face and figure, was stunning. She arrested the eye, so that in a crowded room she inevitably became the center of attention.
Brachis turned to Mondrian. “You see my problem. If I express annoyance with Princess Tatiana, Godiva will interpret it as a lack of esteem for her. I can’t afford to have that.” He gestured to the other man to sit down opposite Tatty, but Mondrian remained on his feet.
“In a moment.” He turned to Tatty and Godiva. “I promised everyone that this evening would not be business, and now I am breaking my promise. Could you give us just a few minutes for private security talk? Then I give you my word that will be the last business discussion tonight.
Godiva merely smiled and said nothing. Tatty at once got to her feet. “Come on, Goddy. You don’t want to hear their boring business. You can show me around this place.
She sounded cheerful enough. Mondrian knew better. He was frowning when he sat down opposite Luther Brachis.
“You’re in the dog house, Commander,” said Brachis. “With both of them. It was supposed to be dinner tonight, and no work. I agreed only on that basis.”
“I know. This is new, it’s urgent, and we can handle it in two minutes if you’ll give me a straight reply to one question: Have you been getting a lot of trouble recently from Dougal MacDougal?”
“I have.” Luther Brachis’ expression became murderous. “Constant interference. I can’t do one thing now without him sticking his big nose in. And he’s the Stellar Ambassador, so I can’t tell him to go away. That man’s a total bonehead.”
“We’ve not reached the difficult part yet. If he’s like that now, how will he be when the Anabasis begins to tangle with the Morgan Construct?”
“Hysterical.”
“So what’s the answer?”
“No answer — unless you’ve got one.”
Mondrian nodded. “I do. We have to get him out of the way, so he can’t be always second-guessing us.”
Brachis regarded him skeptically. “Easy to say. But how do you do it? He’s certainly immune to hints. You’d have to kill him to get rid of him.”
“It might come to that — but not yet. I know a better way. Dougal MacDougal would stay out of the way if the Stellar Ambassadors told him to. You know how he grovels to them.
“He does. But dictating to the Stellar Ambassadors is harder than controlling MacDougal. They won’t get him out of our hair, just because we’d like them to.”
“They might.” Mondrian lowered his voice. “I’ve got clout now with the Pipe-Rillas. I can get them to suggest something to the Angels and the Tinkers: Our complete independence from MacDougal in operating the Anabasis.”
“I d give a lot to get rid of him. But what’s the other half? Pipe-Rillas don’t operate from charity, any more than you do. What do they want in return?’
“Something I can’t give them alone. That’s why we’re talking now. The Pipe-Rillas have made it very clear what they’re after. They want the secret plans for human expansion beyond the Stellar Group.”
“The what?” Brachis snorted in disgust. “Secret expansion plans? There’s no such thing — or if there is, no one bothered to tell me.”
“I know. And you know. But the Pipe-Rillas don’t believe that. They think we have plans to expand the Perimeter without telling them, and are keeping our schemes secret. You have to remember the way they think of humans. In their eyes we’re madmen — aggressive, rash, and dangerous.”
“And they’re not far off the truth, for some of us.” Brachis laughed. “Oh, we can be dangerous enough. But how do we give them secret expansion plans, when we don’t have any?”
“We make them up — you and me. Between us we have shared security responsibility from Sol to the Perimeter. We can produce something that’s consistent and plausible.”
“What if we can? Nobody believes there’s any such plans.”
“Not now they don’t. But we can drop hints in a few places, suggesting they exist. For a start, you could plant it around MacDougal’s office. That place leaks information out faster than it goes in. When rumors get back to the Pipe-Rillas, it will confirm their ideas. And then after a while we give them the plans themselves.”
“How?”
“You leave that to me. I have a delivery system already in place. They’ll accept what I give them.”
“The Pipe-Rillas think you’re a traitor?”
“That concept is not in their vocabulary. In their view, I will be allowing the better side of my nature to triumph over natural human wickedness. They don’t seem to understand cheating.”
“But I do. And so do you.” Luther Brachis leaned across the table. “How do I know this whole thing isn’t just some game of yours, setting me up for something?”
“I realize I’ve got to prove that to you. I will.” Mondrian motioned slightly with his head. “Later. For now, it’s a truce. Here come Tatiana and Godiva.”
The two woman had appeared in the doorway and were threading their way through the tables. A tall waiter was in front or them, carrying a broad covered dish. He placed the silver tureen between Brachis and Mondrian and straightened up.
“With the compliments of the management,” he said stiffly. “I will return shortly to take your order.” He hurried away, bowing his head deferentially to Godiva and Tatty as he passed them.
“That’s peculiar,” said Brachis. “I’ve been here a dozen times, and I’ve never before had free appetizers.”
He reached out and took hold of the cover, lifting it from the dish. As he did so the fire opal at Mondrian’s collar changed color. It pulsed with a vivid green light, and a high-pitched whine came from it.
“Drop that!” Mondrian leaped to his feet, glanced around him, and grabbed the tureen off the table. He hurled it away to his left. “Get down, all of you!”
He grabbed the end of the table and tilted it upwards so that it served as a shield. At the same moment Luther Brachis dived at Tatty and Godiva, gathering one in each arm and knocking them off their feet. He dropped on top of them.
There was a hollow, deep whomp and a bright flash of white light. The table that Mondrian was holding flew violently backwards, smashing into him and throwing him down on top of Brachis. A sound like violent hail rattled on the other side of the table. After it came a sudden and total silence.
Tatty found herself lying on her right side, ears ringing. Sharp pain tingled and stung all the way along her left arm. Brachis and Mondrian were on top of her, making it impossible to move. As she tried to wriggle out from under them she heard a curse and a pained grunt from above.
“Ahggh! Esro, for God’s sake get your head out of my guts. Esro?”
The weight on top of her rolled away. Tatty could move to one side, and finally crawl free. She stood up, dizzy and aware of the dull, padded feeling inside her skull.